Short Hemingway Poems
Short Hemingway Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hemingway by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hemingway by length and keyword.
Hemingway is nice big writer won Nobel Prize in Literature
I really love to read Hemingway do you love to read him too?
Some say I look like Hemingway
Some say he looks like me.
But six-toed cats cannot be fooled
That’s why, from me, they flee.
Written by John Posey
03-16-13
What Hemingway Saw And Felt That Summer
floor, rat eaten shoe
fisherman and lake in tune
dawn, eggs and bacon
Robert J. Lindley, 4-04-2018
Haiku, ( Life, Living and Time)
I passed through Ketchum
Losing my mind
Surrounded by talking walls
One drink turns to a bottle
I try to write
Poetry is poetry
At the moment I drink surrounded by walls and I write" I was here then I was gone"
I think i'm Bukowski
because i drank three beers
He thinks he's Hemingway
because he fought a poodle
She thinks she's Nina Simone
after her third piano lesson
We all kinda suck, but that's alright, i hope
a wedding
anniversary
of decades
departed
days of yore
that are no more
& yet
as precious
still
as dust
upon
a butterfly's wings*
*a Hemingway phrase
A literary sociopath…
Hemingway wrote
Both gifted and tortured,
his words they provoke
A verbal combatant,
new victories untold
His last proving fatal
—all memory on hold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
A literary sociopath…
Hemingway wrote
Both gifted and tortured,
his words they provoke
A verbal combatant
with battles foretold
His last the most fatal
—all memory on hold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Faulkner's letter to
Hemingway discovered God
in time ~ ere souls wrote
formed their clays ~ victories and
defeats ~ fought they their reproof
now loves and pities
proud catch lost at sea old man
lands the best that seldom's me
Avoid needless
complexity
Say it
straight out
Frost and
then Hemingway
Set the rules
down
Between meaning
and verbiage
The idea
is king
Sharpen
the point
The message
— the thing
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: January, 2024)
Once for whom the bell tolls did exist
the playwright and the war journalist.
Wilde had an ego that’s true
but Hemingway always knew
the importance of being Ernest!
Written: May 2015
Fishery
He is a fisherman from Guiana
doesn´t do Tonga, but the sea is blue.
His face is a map of America.
He fishes sharks (not Hemingway)
one of them took his arm.
Vengeance is mine, said the lord.
Crap !!! He says
and set red sail for China.
Good Old Earnest.
Thanks to internet
Novels are getting longer
But not better
A jungle of unnecessary word
A machete comes in handy
Earnest Hemingway
Used typewriter and slowly
Paused for a little drink
Being economical with words
So he could go out fishing
I don't need to be Hemingway...
Or anyone else....
I am comfortable being me
In lust with you....
My poem of a man....
A warrior...
Speaks all I can say
to you....
Golden curls and red lips
So excite me....
In my dreams
Pearls are my gift to you
As I sleep....So loving.
Orwell, Hemingway, King
Reading is my favorite thing
Without books I would be a bird with one wing
Poe, Twain, Joyce
What I do with my free time is read
That is my choice
I plan on writing my own book soon because my pen is my voice
Shelley, Lovecraft, Tzu
Books make me me
What makes you you ?
In the Pocket
For years Nana begged for a holiday
But pop's only passion was Faraday
He failed to do the math
Created a psychopath
She smirked, "Give my regards to Hemingway."
(Pocket: Some surfers call this the energy zone and it can be identified as the steepest point in the wave.)
Is
When a tiny tot teeters on the brink of toddlerhood
When your first love finds another
When a reader discovers Hemingway
When demob happy you exit the services
When a treacherous IED is tripped
When Death your soulmate snatches away.
I’ve forever written
as myself
Few influences will
show
Neither Hemingway nor
Faulkner
Not Melville or
Thoreau
But as one who saw through
all of that
With so much more
to know
I search the land
and stars above
For ink
—my pen to flow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Ernest Hemingway;
Him had his way,
Earnest Hemingway.
Not much a poet I would say,
I like him anyway...
Had so many things to say.
Though married many wives,
Couldn’t keep em,
For with other women he was sleeping!
I know for in his Bio…
I’ve been peeping,
And into his writing style…
I’m slowly creeping!
I feel the undercurrent, of the ever-flowing rivers
That feed the wells, and springs of pens
The depth of words, flowing again
Hemingway became a lake
Emily a brook
Pouring out for our partake
Drink deeply now from cups poured then
Springs flowing out across time's glens
Rhyme and prose in Poets rose, in out-flowing of these givers
We all once read the same great books in school
Shakespeare, Dickens, Samuel Clemens, Hemingway
Each one a classic, thought to be a jewel --
With plots and themes still relevant today
A widespread range of characters portrayed --
But now these treasures, written by white men
Are labelled racist and misogynist... Amen.
~ Iambic Pentameter
"your pretty thought does not describe hard life.
It tells your wish. You have to save yourself!
Redemption is the honesty of courage--
The guts to bet yourself against all odds."
The old man grieved because his net of words
Fell on the page, no longer catching him;
And, knowing only what a man should do
With wounded beasts, he kissed the phallic gun.
For Papa
That monster inside us
devouring the past
Our memories hunted
most recent to last
No mercy is shown us
as darkness creeps in
Today and tomorrow
—lost into the wind
(Tribute To Hemingway: January, 2024)
Lakota Buffalo Prayer
Shooting
today
Killing
tomorrow
Targeted
fortune
Lost
—to the wind
(The New Room: January, 2024)
The Mist
Cascais was enveloped in a silky, grey fog last night
that reminded me of Marilyn Dietrich silk- stockings
she wore in an ad many years ago.
Ernest Hemingway and her were a great love story
not consumed.
Above the stockings, a nearly full moon shone, it
gave hope for the future, the lockdown will soon end
it will be ok, but not as before taking life for granted.
For we have thought the longer thoughts
And trod the road to stray.
And we have sung the songs of hill,
Then uttered words of fray;
But to Him we owe these lives we owed
Now it's time to lay
A glowing candle in shadowed path
And humbled our knees to pray.
"For we have thought the longer thoughts "
the first line of the poem "Chapter Heading"
by Ernest Hemingway